Journal
by NettieC
Summary: When McCool recommends writing a journal Mac is sceptical to say the least. Then she starts with Dear Harm, and the rest just flows, until her Christmas Eve accident.


Disclaimer: They aren't mine ... wish they were.

This is for Nat, because she's so dedicated.... and she asked so nicely...

Tuesday

It was a stupid suggestion, honestly it was and Mac wanted nothing to do with it. After all she was heading towards forty, far removed from the teenage girls who you'd normally associate with such things. Still, deciding she'd at least try it once, Mac pulled out an old note book and thought about what Commander McCool had said.

"Fine," she muttered to herself, uncapping her pen. "Want me to write a journal, then I'll write…"

The first time she started with the date and greeting of 'Dear Diary', but decided it seemed ridiculous so she tore the page out. The second time, she entered the date and went without greeting, after all who was she writing to? It wasn't as if anyone would read it. Then she thought better of it and decided to write it to herself, she scrawled 'Dear Sarah,' then thought better of it and scratched it out, amending it to 'Dear Mac'. Not happy with that either she tore the page out once more.

Contemplating her options, she closed her eyes and tried to figure out why it was all so hard, the answer came to her instantly. Opening her eyes, she started writing and didn't stop for the next twenty minutes.

_Dear Harm,_

_I know this is ridiculous, but I figured I'd give it a go and besides you'll never read it so I guess it doesn't matter. McCool thinks I should write in a journal, get all my thoughts down onto paper. She seems to think it will help me work through things … to gain a clearer perspective. That's putting a lot of faith in pen and paper, don't you think?_

_I guess the fact that I am seeing someone like her, in a professional capacity, shows I'm not doing too well with sorting things out by myself. God, when did things get so hard? Why are things so hard?_

_I look back and I can't really remember the last time I was happy, can you? There have been good moments, don't get me wrong, but if you look at the overall picture when was I last happy? I honestly don't know. Have I ever been happy? I don't know that either. God, I sound like a sap, 'oh, poor me' and it's not like me to be that way, I guess I was so busy trying to get over things I never tried to get through them. Does that make sense? Probably not._

_I'm not sure why I find it easier to write these things when I think about you. It's just that over the years we've always had our own communication of sorts, you've had a way of understanding what I just can't say and I guess that's what I'm hoping for now…_

_Anyway, I can't see me rereading what I've written; I don't want to see how sappy I sound, after all I'm a marine, and right now I feel so un-marine like. Still I guess it's worth a try…_

_Mac_

Dropping the pen, Mac closed the notebook and shoved it under the seat cushion of her sofa. She hadn't had a visitor in ages, still, she didn't want to take the chance someone would call in unexpectedly and read it.

Pleased that she'd accomplished at least one thing that day, Mac made her way to the bathroom and ran the water. She needed a nice, long, hot bubble bath and what's more, she deserved one.

Thursday

After finishing her Chinese take-out, Mac retrieved her journal from under the seat cushion and flicked through to the next blank page, not even tempted to read Tuesday's entry. Starting with the date, she began once more.

_Dear Harm, _

_I know McCool said to write everyday so I guess I've messed that up already. It wasn't that I didn't want to write yesterday, I just didn't think about it until I was already in bed and then I couldn't be bothered. _

_I don't have a lot to say today, I'm not sure how girls can spend hours writing in these things. What do they talk about? Hopes? Dreams? Boys? Well, I guess when you're fourteen you still have those things … hopes and dreams, I mean… Not sure that I have either… and don't get me started on boys – well, men in my case…_

_My day was okay, won my case, it was a tough one, so I'm glad it's over. Can't find much enthusiasm for it though, I guess my only consolation is that the Petty Officer won't hurt anyone else for a long, long time._

_I have to see McCool tomorrow. Maybe that's why I'm writing tonight, something like getting your homework done. I know she's going to want to talk about things … I know that's her job but still I'm very reluctant about the whole process. _

_I'm just not the type of person to open up to someone so easily … I couldn't do it with you, so it's no wonder I can't do it with her. I know my life hasn't been easy, but then neither has yours, neither has Bud's … so why is it that I'm the one needing counselling. Maybe there's just something fundamentally wrong with me…and not just me being screwed up because of my parents, maybe it's just the way I am … just have a predisposition to be unhappy and unloved. Do you think that's possible? _

_I don't really think like that, most times, but then I get to thinking and …well, with no evidence to the contrary, anything's possible I guess._

_Mac_

Friday (a month later)

The book lay hidden under the sofa for the month Mac was away on a case; however, the first night she was home she pulled it back out, surprising herself that she had the desire to write.

_Dear Harm,_

_I'm finally back home and I'm glad. Christmas is a week away and although this place isn't much, I do like being here for the holiday and since I just missed Thanksgiving … well, let's just say I'm happy to be home._

_Home!_

_Now there's an interesting thought. What is it about this place that makes it feel like home? It's probably the first place I've lived where I've felt settled, like I belong. Though I'm not sure if it's this apartment or other things…_

_What other things? I can hear you ask…_

_Well, JAG for one … this posting has grounded me. I've grown so much since I started here nearly a decade ago. It hasn't always been easy and I can't count the number of times I've wanted to walk away – or rather run away screaming, but when I did I always came back. _

_It's not the same there now the Admiral has gone. He was like a father to me … how clichéd does that sound? He cared about me, not just as a marine, but as me … and I'll always treasure that … I often wondered what it would have been like had he been my father … my life would have been so different… _

_Friends… I have friends here … Bud and Harriet have been a godsend. Just being near them gives me a comfort I can't explain. I guess they've given me that sense of family I've longed for._

_You? I know you'd ask about you. Having you here probably makes this home too. No, not probably, it does. _

_Things haven't always been easy between us and sometimes I've hated you. Yes, really. I know it's such a strong emotion but it's true. With everything we've gone through, sometimes I found hating you easier to deal with only because it hurt too much to be in love you, knowing you didn't love me._

_Why is it we've never been on the same page? _

_I want you, you don't want me._

_You want me, I … well, I can't say don't want you because I've wanted you for a long time… let's just say I haven't been available._

_But despite that, I am still happier knowing you are nearby than I would be if I was posted five thousand miles away._

_Mac_

Mac scanned her words and the word 'love' jumped out at her. There it was in black and white, or rather blue and white in this case. She had actually acknowledged what she had spent years denying to everyone; including herself…she loved him. For the next five minutes she sat and stared at that passage. She loved him. She was in love with him. "Damn, McCool," she muttered. Maybe she was right with the journal writing thing giving you some perspective but damn her anyway.

Her sleep that night was restless with dreams of Harm weaving through her mind. None of them were bad dreams, quite the opposite actually, but they served to leave her tired and frustrated.

The same happened on Sunday night, and Monday night.

It was 3:00 AM Tuesday when she climbed out of bed and retrieved her journal.

_Dear Harm, _

_You've woken me up three times tonight already, and every night since Friday. You and your … well, never mind. Let's just say you were very acrobatic in bed… come to think of it, so was I._

_Anyway, now I'm awake and frustrated. Not the first time, thanks to you, but I figure I may as well write to you and let you know what I'm thinking…_

_I was watching you today in the break room. You were making yourself a hot chocolate and I saw you pop a few of those mini-marshmallows on the top. The picture seemed wrong and I didn't realise what it was til I was back in my office – the marshmallows, you don't like them. Or at least I didn't think you did._

_On the rare occasions we've been out and had hot chocolate together, you've always said you weren't a fan and popped them into my drink because you know I love them. And I never thought anything of it … until today. Then I thought about the times we've had hot chocolate at the Roberts and Harriet always puts them in and you've never said anything and today you added them yourself, so it's not that you don't like them when we're out, it's just that you wanted me to have them… that's so sweet._

_And later, I was watching you in the bullpen when I was in my office. You were leaning on the cabinet waiting for the photocopier. I couldn't see who you were chatting to but you seemed so relaxed. When you walked back by my office you smiled at me and my heart skipped. I wanted you to come in, I wanted to talk to you but I didn't know what to say… isn't that ridiculous. I didn't know what to say to you… you, of all people._

_Anyway, later as you were waiting by the elevator I watched as you chatted to Bud. God, I sound like a stalker, don't I? Don't know what the topic was but you were happy and smiling. I like it when you smile; it makes me feel good, regardless of what's happening. You also looked incredibly sexy but I'm certainly not getting into that here…that's probably what inspired those dreams of mine… I think I'll go back to bed now; maybe I can have another one._

_Night,_

_Mac_

Wednesday

Mac was sitting at her desk, trying to wade through the mountain of paperwork which seemed to accumulate overnight. Desperate for any excuse to abandon the lot, Mac kept an eye on the door, hoping for some distraction. She got it when Bud knocked.

"Afternoon, ma'am," Bud said rapping on the door.

"Hi, Bud, come on in," she smiled, glad for the interruption.

"I won't take much of your time," he began.

"Take all the time you need," she interrupted. "This will wait."

"Just making sure you're all set for dinner tomorrow night," he said. "Harriet and the kids are so eager to see you."

"I can't wait either," she smiled. Christmas Eve with the Roberts and Harm was just what she felt like doing.

"1800 hours," he reminded her.

"Yes, I know," she grinned. "Maybe it's the Commander you need to remind."

"Oh, I will, ma'am," he replied. "And so will Harriet."

When Mac arrived home she wrapped the last of the presents and stuffed them into the jumbo sack she had pulled out of the Christmas box, pleased with her purchases for the four Roberts children and their parents. She looked at Harm's gift still sitting on the coffee table unwrapped, it was some book about flying aces he'd raved about a few weeks ago. She picked up the book and opened to the front leaf; grabbing her pen she debated how to inscribe it. She wanted something sincere but not sappy. Something personal but could be read by others. Not able to come up with anything she replaced the book and grabbed her journal.

_Dear Harm,_

_It's Christmas Eve eve and I'll be seeing you at work tomorrow and then at the Roberts' tomorrow night._

_You'll laugh to know I can't think of anything to write in your book… I got the book you wanted so I hope you didn't buy it yourself. Maybe I shouldn't write in it, just in case you already have it and want to give it to someone else…_

_Truthfully, it's not that I can't think of what to say it's just that they all seem too corny or sappy or impersonal … Dear Harm, Merry Christmas, Mac was the one I ended up on before I decided against it too. First, I figured 'love from, Mac', then I thought I'd drop the 'from' and just leave it 'love, Mac'. Still the greeting wasn't personal so I thought of 'Dear Harm, You're an ace to me, love Mac' – how bad is that? Then I considered 'Dear Harm, I'd fly with you anytime, love Mac' and that seemed alright but then we both know our track record when it comes to planes – so I didn't bother._

_Now it's only a few minutes before Christmas Eve and the page is still blank…_

_Maybe I'll leave it and you can write your own entry…_

_Anyway, hard to believe it's Christmas already. I know it's such a hard time for you. I've seen you at The Wall countless times and have just wanted to wrap myself around you and take the pain from your eyes; to snuggle under your jacket and keep the chills away. I always tell myself I'll do it but I never do. I guess I always think that I'm intruding… am I? Would I be?_

_Little AJ asked me the other day what I wanted Santa to bring me and I nearly cried. I don't think Santa can bring me anything I want, he never has before so I can't see him starting now. But AJ was insistent so I said chocolates and shoes, he seemed happy enough with that. Shame it isn't all that easy for me, hey?_

_It left me wondering about what I want in life and I want to be happy. _

_I want you. _

_I want you to want me. _

_Is that asking too much?_

_I want to wake up and know that there's a reason I'm here … a reason I should stay…_

_And I know Santa can't help me with that._

_Anyway, it's late now and I'm heading to bed._

_Merry Christmas, Harm,_

_Love, Mac._

Thursday

Putting away the last of her files, Mac smiled at her clean desk, happy to know she wouldn't be back until the New Year.

"All done?" Harm asked, startling her.

"Yep," she grinned. "You?"

"I still have these to sort," he said, waving some folders in his hand. "But I'll be done in about fifteen." Mac smiled, knowing his fifteen minutes could expand to fifty and then he would visit his father.

"In that case, I'll see you at the Roberts in a couple of hours," she said, shrugging into her coat.

"Definitely," he grinned. "Save some hot chocolate for me."

Mac arrived home and stripped off her uniform before soaking in the tub. Once the water cooled, she stepped out and pulled on her most comfortable jeans and a red sweater, her attempt at Christmas. Warmly dressed, she grabbed her coat, bag and the sack of presents and headed down to her car. For once she was truly looking forward to Christmas.

With the sack nestled safely in the trunk, Mac started the engine and adjusted the radio while she waited for the car to heat. She settled on a station playing Christmas songs and put on her belt.

Singing Jingle Bells to herself, Mac pulled her car out into the quiet street and headed to the corner. Indicating to turn right, Mac turned on her wipers in the light rain which had begun. Happily she drove towards the Roberts' surprised by the low traffic volume and the good time she was making.

Three blocks from the Roberts' she skidded on a patch of black ice and despite all of her defensive driving skills she couldn't correct her steering. She glanced up and knew in her heart she was going to collide with the huge oak tree on the corner, a very unforgiving oak tree.

It was with a bone shattering thud, her car impaled itself into the wood. The sound of crumbling metal filled her ears as the airbag slammed into her face and caused her body to crash back into her seat, still restrained by the seat belt.

In the first few moments she could hear nothing but her own screams then everything faded. There were no sounds, no thoughts, no pain as she drifted away from the moment.

"Mac! Mac!" She heard the frantic call through the fog she was in. She felt a hand touching her face but couldn't respond. "God, Mac, please answer me?" the voice pleaded but her eyes remained closed.

Sometime later she became aware of sirens nearby but she was past caring as to whether they were for her. She could hear her name being called repeatedly, almost chanted but she couldn't tell where it was actually coming from.

By the time the firemen and paramedics cut her from her car and loaded her onto the gurney, Mac was in a neck brace and had a combination of drugs entering her body through an IV. She heard her name once more and struggled to open her eyes.

"You're okay, Mac, you're okay," the voice soothed as a hand touched her face.

"Harm?" she gasped. "Harm?"

"Yes, Mac, it's me," he reassured her, running his thumb down her unmarked cheek. "I'm right here."

"Harm?" she called once more.

"I'm right here," he whispered, leaning down to her. "Right here."

"Your present," she choked. "I left it on the coffee table…"  
"That's okay," he answered, stroking her arm. "Don't worry about it."

"But I have everyone else's," she pressed on. "They're in the trunk."

"So, I see," he replied, looking at the car.

"But yours…I forgot… I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't apologise, it's fine," he reassured her.

In a flurry of activity, Mac had been delivered to the hospital had tests, scans and x-rays completed and been cleaned up considerably while Harm sat impatiently in the waiting room. He'd called Bud and Harriet and then the General. Reassuring them all Mac would be okay but wasn't up for visitors. He also promised them he would call with updates as soon as he could.

When Mac was finally settled into a room, Harm was allowed in and saw the mottled bruising across her face.

"I must look hideous," she grimaced as she watched him watching her.

"You are beautiful," he replied, with a soft smile.

"Hardly," she scoffed.

"You are, Mac … and the fact that you're still here is just beautiful… regardless of this," he said tenderly as he ran a finger softly along her injured cheek.

"Sorry to spoil your Christmas," she whispered as tears pricked her eyes.

"You didn't spoil anything, Mac," he reassured her. Taking one hand in his and pulling the chair up to her bed with the other one. "Granted, this wasn't what I was expecting but it I'm still spending Christmas Eve with you … so nothing's spoiled."

For a long while he just sat and held her hand, he knew she was fighting desperately not to fall asleep but it was what was best for her.

"Go to sleep, Mac," he soothed, squeezing her hand.

"Your present …" she began again.

"Plenty of time for that…" he interrupted.

"But I had the others … I just forgot to put yours in…" she explained.

"Mac, it doesn't matter," he said. "You being here in all I need." She smiled in reply but there was something nagging at her and she brought it up again. Harm knew it was the blow to the head and didn't want to distress her further than she already seemed.

"Okay, Mac," he conceded, getting to his feet. "If you go to sleep right now, I'll go and get it …"

"It's a book," she smiled in relief.

"I know, you told me," he replied, kissing her forehead.

"It's on the coffee table," she added.

"Yeah, you told me that too," he said, kissing her once more.

"I didn't get a chance to wrap it… do you mind?" she rambled.

"Not at all," he smiled.

"Okay."

When he was sure she was asleep, Harm headed out and straight to Mac's apartment. Using his own key he let himself in and flicked on the light. He looked at the coffee table and saw the book. He grinned, she'd remembered. As he picked it up he saw her notebook underneath, still opened to the last page. 'Dear Harm' caught his eye and he flicked back the few pages and noted they all started that way. Not sure what it was all about but not wanting to be away from the hospital too long, Harm grabbed both the notebook and his present and headed back out.

Mac continued sleeping long after his return, giving him enough time to grab a coffee and settle into the armchair in her room. He opened up her notebook and read the entries and even though he knew she never meant for him to read it, he continued to do so. Each letter giving him a little more insight, a little more cause for thought.

By the time he'd finished, tears were streaming down his face but he was compelled to read it through once more. When he finally finished, he used his sleeve to wipe away his tears. Not knowing how he would ever get the words out, he foraged through the bedside cabinet and grabbed a pen. He opened up his gift and began to write…

_Dear Mac,_

_I have no problems writing my own entry in this book…_

_If I was writing it to you, this is what I would say…_

_My darling, Mac,_

_It's not asking too much… but it is a redundant question…_

_I already want you, more than you'll ever know. _

_I love you deeply, desperately and with every fibre of my being._

_As selfish as this sounds, there is a reason you should stay … I couldn't live without you… I don't want to live without you … _

_Santa may not be able to help you with all of this but I can … if you'll let me… please let me._

_Love you,_

_Harm _

He closed the book and sat it on the bed beside Mac before settling back into the armchair. Harm pulled a thin blanket over him and watched her sleep until his eyelids grew too heavy and he drifted off as well.

It was the clanking of a trolley in the corridor which woke him hours later and he struggled to sit up, a huge knot in his neck causing pain as he tried to straighten up. All thoughts of his own discomfort evaporated when he looked over at Mac and saw tears cascading down her face even though her eyes were still closed.

"Mac, what is it?" he gasped, almost leaping to the bed and grabbing her hand. "What's wrong? Are you in pain? Do you want me to call someone?"

"No,' she whispered, opening her eyes. "I'm okay."

"Why are you crying then?" he pressed, as his thumb wiped away her tears.

"I read … I read…" Then, because the words wouldn't come, she lifted up his book.

"It's true, all true," he reassured her as her hand came up to his face.

"You really do love me?" she asked, as her fingertips traced his tears.

"More than anything," he said, leaning down to her. "More than everything."

She smiled warmly as his eyes locked onto hers. "Tell me," she whispered.

"I love you, Sarah MacKenzie," he declared, gently brushing his lips over her swollen ones. "I love you so very, very much."

"Love you too, Harm," she replied, trying to press up into his kiss but he resisted, knowing any such movement or pressure would cause her pain..

"Plenty of time for that later," he whispered, kissing her forehead instead.

"Promise?" she questioned as he moved to settled onto the bed beside her.

"Oh, definitely," he grinned as she snuggled into him. "And, just so you know," he continued. "I am quite acrobatic in bed…" He leant down and kissed her head.

"Good, I'm counting on it," she yawned, wrapping her arm around his waist.

"Go to sleep, Mac," he whispered as her eyes fluttered closed.

"Mmm, yeah, think I will," she muttered. "Merry Christmas, Harmmm."

"Merry Christmas, Mac," he answered and kissed her head once more.

This Christmas would be his best. It could have been the one where he lost everything, but looking at the woman in his arm he couldn't help but smile, he'd gained everything. Mac's eyes opened and she studied him for a moment, she saw him smile and knew he was happy. Too tired for words, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep once more, she had to concede that maybe Santa did finally deliver for her this year and as she felt his lips on her head she couldn't help but think that this was definitely all her Christmases coming at once.

**  
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